Stranger on the Shore
by Javanyet
Summary: Episode 3 in the 'Standards' series. How Leo O'Reilly came to the Enterprise and found a life, a career, and a match made in the Twilight Zone. Complete.
1. Prologue

_Shall I just be  
A lonely stranger on the shore..._

"Number One, in my ready room!" the captain's voice barked from Riker's comlink. Will decided it was best not to ask for details. When he arrived in the captain's office he saw Picard staring hard out the viewport, tense from head to foot.

"Sir?"

Picard whirled on him, the embodiment of outraged authority. "I just received a subspace communiqué from Starfleet Command. They have decided that in order to best implement the new starship administration certification, whose first class has just completed the academy, that the flagship of the Federation should set the example by establishing the first such post as a pilot programme."

"You mean they've ordered you," he began but Picard cut him off.

"They're sending me a secretary as a bridge level officer! Bloody hell!" he exploded, not noticing Riker's eyes widen in surprise at the outburst. "How long have I held the rank of captain in Starfleet, how many years have I commanded starships, and you and I have been quite capable of running things on the Enterprise as they should be run thank you very much. How many missions have _we_ come through alive and whole and without triggering interstellar catastrophe _without_ the assistance of an, an, 'administrative executive officer'! A _secretary_ with the rank of lieutenant! Thrust upon this ship, dropped in from above," he was so completely beside himself that Will had to stifle a smile.

"With respect, sir, the admin program at the Academy is said to be quite rigorous. Basic proficiency in areas of interstellar science, Federation and Starfleet history, engineering, and weapons are required in addition to personnel, starship ops, and administrative management." Will knew this, of course, because Data's friend Leo O'Reilly had been a member of the first graduating class.

"That's not the point, Will." Picard ran a hand over his head and sat heavily in his chair. "I'm a Starfleet captain. I issue orders, I make decisions, I _delegate_ to my senior officers. I do not…" the fury fell away and was replaced by the honest admission, "I do not 'share' well. I have things organized a certain way and it has worked for quite some time with few fatalities. Now Starfleet tells me I need a,"

"Not a secretary, sir."

"Fine, an administrative exec, to help 'keep things running smoothly'."

"But sir, you've said yourself lately you'd sell your soul to be freed from some of the ops and protocol issues, crew assignments, diplomatic events coordination, you've said with all the new peacetime developments in Starfleet and Federation activities you'd give anything just to be _captain_ of the Enterprise again."

"I _am_ the captain of the Enterprise!" Picard roared.

Will finally sat down in the chair opposite Picard's and leaned forward with a sympathetic expression. "Permission to speak freely, captain."

"Oh, _please_."

"Captain, it sounds to me like it's a done deal. You can either beat your head against the formidable bulkhead of Starfleet, or you can find a way to make it work. You've always been wise at picking your battles with them, and this doesn't sound to me like it's worthy of tying your career up in knots. And to be honest I wouldn't mind being relieved of the personnel issues and shipboard minutiae you have to delegate to me. Many of the bureaucratic elements that we find so disruptive of the work we trained for, this new exec can take them away and leave us to the research and exploration, the project proposals we never seem to have enough time for. And you could take time off for leave now and then."

"And leave a bureaucratic functionary to run my ship? I think not." Picard punctuated his icy words with an icier glare.

"Sir, to be fair,"

"I suggest you do not raise the subject of fairness right now, Commander."

"Yes sir. Will there be anything else?" Apparently he'd been summoned so Picard could vent to a trusted colleague.

"Yes. Crew quarters assignment will be needed for this new lieutenant." He glanced at his desktop viewscreen and squinted at the name. "Leora O'Reilly… wonderful, they're sending me a woman to tidy up the place." Even as he spoke the words the captain realized how unlike him they were. He'd never been prey to such primitive stereotypes, but frustration was getting the better of him.

"O'Reilly, sir?" There could only have been one "O'Reilly" in that graduating class, he was sure.

"Yes, Will. Good lord, you don't know her 'well', do you?" He was not unaware of his first officer's reputation with the ladies. But an Academy _cadet_? Even for Riker that was a reach.

"No sir, in fact we haven't met. But if you remember, sir, Data recently took a few days' leave to attend a friend's graduation at Starfleet Academy…"

"Leora O'Reilly?"

"Yes, sir." To head off another tirade, Riker hastily added, "Graduated number three in her class of fifteen. No mean feat for a woman from the 21st century."

Picard strained to remember. Yes, he recalled Data having a great deal to say about someone he'd met while at the First Contact Diplomacy seminar last year. This got worse and worse… bad enough to be forced to post a fresh graduate – an _officer_, no less – who had a pre-existing personal relationship with another senior officer, but what kinds of conflicts would arise when said senior officer was an android? "You mean to tell me that Starfleet has assigned me someone who is personally involved with my second officer, someone whom I have never met, and that I am supposed to believe that this someone deposited three hundred years into her _future_ graduated third in her class after only eighteen months?" Now he ran _ both_ hands over his head, and down over his face. And resisted the urge to drop his head forward on the desk with a loud thud.

"Accelerated, sir. And apparently an administrative specialist in her own time."

"Not on a _starship_ she wasn't!"

"No sir, I suppose not. But Data tutored her in the 24th century technology, that made a big difference. He says she caught onto the principles very quickly. And don't worry sir, she and Data are close friends but I'm sure that won't be an issue."

Picard grunted. "It's not _Mr. Data_ I'm worried about." He sighed, rolled his eyes, and suddenly focused on another pointed question. "Tell me, exactly how did this Leora O'Reilly even get approval to _enroll_ at the Academy?"

"Captain Justin Raymond of the Avalon, sir. Remember their difficulty with the magnetic anomaly… they seem to have picked up Lieutenant O'Reilly on the way. Captain Raymond wrote her recommendation to the Academy."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Raymond's a good man. What could he have been thinking?"

"Well according to Data it was either that or drop her at a Starbase for re-education. She managed to persuade Captain Raymond that the academy would be the best option."

"For _whom_?"

"For everyone, apparently. She was concerned about being useful here, about finding employment that would contribute something. Sir, they would have washed her out if she didn't perform."

"Well I suppose that's to be commended. She talked Justin Raymond into a recommendation…a _persuasive_ 'administrative exec' to help things run smoothly… on _my_ ship… wonderful."

"Sir you know that Starfleet doesn't graduate politically." He didn't bother to hide his smile. "They save politics for later."

Picard smiled ironically in acknowledgment. "Well said. Sometimes I think I've been at this job too long, Number One."

"Captain, the list of 'firsts' the Enterprise as a ship, and you as its captain, have presided over is standard course material at Starfleet. Maybe you can look at this as another breakthrough for the record."

"You'll forgive me if I'm not dazzled by that silver lining. Well." Personal outbursts concluded, Picard straightened in his chair and adjusted his uniform. "See to the crew quarter assignments, and I suppose she'll need some workspace too. _And _she'll need ship's orientation."

"I think Data can handle that sir."

"Of course. And see that Counselor Troi schedules an appointment with her. I don't want any post-time jump baggage to trip over. Dismissed, Commander."

"Yes sir."

On the way back to his post, Will paused at Data's bridge station. "She's in," he whispered with a wink and added more seriously, "and for quite a ride, too. Too bad she doesn't have your titanium hide."

Data approximated a smile and suggested, "Perhaps she will not need it."

Will shot a look back at the door he'd just come through and shuddered. "From your mouth to the gods' ears, Data."


	2. First Contact

Leo took a deep breath before Will Riker hit the door comlink.

"He won't bite, I promise," Commander Riker reassured her. "Though his bark is pretty impressive."

"Thanks, Commander. "

"Captain, I have our new officer to meet you."

"Thank you, Number One. Bring her in."

Will tipped Leo a wink and preceded her into the conference room after the door slid open.

"Captain Picard, Lieutenant Leora Eileen O'Reilly."

"Thank you, Commander, that will be all. Dismissed."

Rather than conduct their first meeting in his ready room, Counselor Troi had suggested the captain greet his new officer in the nearby conference room. "It will be a bit more neutral for you both, captain." She wasn't unaware of his territorial difficulties regarding the new crew member. "No matter what your personal feelings, sir, you have to remember she's doing her duty. It's what she studied for, and what she's trained for."

"Very well, Counselor, I will be on my best behavior I assure you."

Jean-Luc Picard paused for a moment to take in the woman who had approached the command end of the ready room table and stopped still some five feet away. She was considerably older than he had expected. For some reason the knowledge that she'd been 'imported' from another time had been trumped by the knowledge she was a cadet. As such, he'd expected a perky twenty-something set to storm the new Federation world. What he saw was a woman in her mid thirties, neither spectacularly attractive or unattractive, consciously respectful in her demeanor, waiting for cues before jumping in. The second thing he noticed was her uniform, a new color in the Starfleet hierarchy in keeping with the new functional designation, something between hunter green and a deep teal. He supposed he'd get used to it.

"Captain Picard, I know your name well of course and I'm very pleased to meet you." No statements regarding her hopes for a long happy career together, no gushing compliments. He gave her his best welcoming smile and took the hand she extended, noticing the firm handshake that argued with the hint of nerves he saw in her eyes.

"Thank you, lieutenant. Please, have a seat." He indicated the one at the corner nearest the command seat. Once she was settled he looked briefly at the viewscreen to refresh his memory.

"You come highly recommended by my second officer." Picard looked her in the eye again to gauge her response.

"Commander Data has been very helpful to me during my studies. He knows how hard I've worked, am still working, to assimilate into this century and contribute something useful."

"Yes, well I trust his word completely in any case."

They sat looking at one another for a moment.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Already? "Granted."

"I'm aware that I've been foisted upon the flagship of the Federation without so much as a by-your-leave. Don't think I'm unaware that this isn't a welcome change for you as captain."

Picard tried not to shift in his seat. She was direct. "It has long been the habit of this ship and crew to be involved in breakthroughs of sorts, Lieutenant. I would just want to make clear at the outset that any hesitation you sense is not directed at you personally. You cannot be held responsible for your function. It's just that I've never felt the need for an assistant other than my first officer. Ship's operations are well-established and in no need of redesign."

"That's not my 'function', sir." She didn't much care for how he seemed to be characterizing things. "My responsibility at this time is to learn every aspect of your ship's operation as it exists under your command and crew. I am in no position to suggest even the most minor improvements until I've done so."

Improvements? "I was unaware of the need for any 'improvements', Lieutenant. Did Starfleet send suggestions along with you?"

Oh brother. Another territorial CEO, and she was trying so hard to appear neutral. "Not at all. As I said, sir, once I have a clear understanding of how things _are_, then we can consider what they might be."

"'We'?" Was he hearing her correctly? Was this time-jumping upstart presenting herself as an equal?

"Captain Picard, my second most important duty is to work _with_ you, my learning and knowledge plus your expertise, to determine how best to shift the appropriate responsibilities from existing crew to myself in order to allow you to operate as efficiently as possible as captain of this vessel. As someone so obviously dedicated to the less 'functionary' responsibilities of command, unless I have read my tactical history wrong, you may define that as an 'improvement'. Others may become apparent, or not, in time." How was she going to deal with this man when he assumed she came as a usurper complete with attitude?

"I see. And what might you consider your _primary_ duty if I may ask?" Lord, did he really sound that imperious, he wondered too late.

Leo's voice tightened just a hair, and the faintest chill entered her eyes, as she drew herself a fraction beyond the posture of attention she was already holding. Even back in her time her friends had informed her of "the look" that came over her, one she swore she had no control of, when one button too many had been pushed.

"To fulfill the commands and requirements of the commander of the USS Enterprise as he sees them." She paused just long enough for effect. "_Sir_."

There was just enough color in that final word to put Picard on notice that he was not dealing with some starry-eyed, overzealous functionary. The look in this lieutenant's eye coupled with the exquisitely tuned edge in her voice told him that while she knew her place in this new world and on his ship, she was not inclined to be shifted any lower than necessary by the unproven expectations of another. Not even a Starfleet ship's captain. Not even when she was clearly still "finding her feet" in an entirely new universe. Deanna had warned him against projecting his personal distaste for the situation.

"Lieutenant O'Reilly, I must apologize. I mean no offense and don't presume to either diminish the considerable effort you have already invested in your chosen path or insult your intentions regarding your post here. You're quite right, it feels as if Starfleet Command has thrust upon me a seismic shift in the way I have always fulfilled my duties as a starship commander." He paused, thought for a moment, and then slapped a hand down on the table, making Leo jump.

"Lieutenant, we are both setting out to navigate completely uncharted waters. The only way to do it without sinking is to do it together, not in opposition. I promise to try to take advantage of Starfleet's new direction, and your presence on my ship, to make everyone's job here easier."

Leo nearly expired with relief. "That's really what it's all about, sir. That's _all_ it's about. Trust me, at this point if I wanted to undermine your authority I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I'm told my second officer might be a good place to start, if you were so inclined."

Tightening up again, Leo countered, "_That_, sir, is not an issue appropriate to our professional interaction." She was amazed then to see him laugh, and he actually reached out and patted her arm (at the end of which was a clenched fist).

"That, Lieutenant Leora Eileen O'Reilly, is precisely the correct answer." He turned to consult the viewscreen again. "Why don't we give you a few days to get oriented. We can meet again in three days, at 0900 hours, to begin to thrash out what our next steps might be."

"I don't know if I'll be up to 'thrashing' just yet sir, can we just discuss it?"

"Of course, lieutenant."

"Please, call me Leo. After all we're going to be working pretty closely together."

"Very well, Leo. You'll forgive me, however, if I don't invite you to address me as 'Jean-Luc'."

"I wouldn't dream of it sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Not for now. Dismissed."

She rose and headed for the door, glad he couldn't see her eyes bugging out as if the room had suddenly decompressed.

"And Leo?" he stopped her, and she turned with a questioning expression. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise. I think you'll find it a fine place to build your new life. If there is anything I can do to make that easier, do let me know." He paused and cautioned with mock severity, "Within reason, of course."

"Of course. I'll keep it in mind. And thank you sir. I look forward to serving under your command."

Leo stepped smartly across the rear of the bridge and into the turbolift. Geordi rushed in after her, just in time to see her slide down the wall to the floor.

"'First contact' with the captain?" he asked casually.

"You know it."

"Any casualties to report to Dr. Crusher?"

"Not so far." She managed a weak laugh as Geordi helped her to her feet.

"Where to, Lieutenant?"

Laughing again, she confessed, "It's gonna take a while for me to get used to that title. Where are you headed?"

"Engineering."

"Sounds good to me. Computer, Engineering." The turbolift engaged. "It's a big ship, gotta start somewhere. I'll just explore a little if that's okay, I promise not to touch anything."

"Don't speak too soon," Geordi teased, "Data's down there reviewing some warp particle analyses." Leo promptly whacked him on the arm, hard.

"Ow! Hey, lieutenant, striking a superior officer is a criminal offense."

"'Superior', hah. Warn me again when I meet one."

Geordi shook his head and grinned, "You are gonna fit in here just _fine_."


	3. Debutante

Fried. Wrecked. Knackered. Shattered. Every extreme adjective she could come up with filed through Leo's brain as she found her way to her quarters via the locator in her uniform comlink. She'd arrived on board the Enterprise by Starfleet shuttle at 0730 and been given a quick run-through of her quarters by a nice young Ensign Whitney. Frankly she was so keyed up over her 0815 meeting with Captain Picard that not much of what the ensign told her sank in. And to be honest he led her through the basics of the various storage and technical devices as if she might already know about them. Even the replicator, which she'd managed never to use at the Academy. No longer simply dedicated to providing food and beverage, there was an additional replicator which could be used to create non-edible things such as clothing. She barely took any of it in, and by the time her container of possessions (35 kilos of books and one pair of tiger striped pajamas) arrived at her quarters she had to leave it untouched. It was 0815 and time to head up to the bridge.

Having survived what Geordi waggishly termed her "first contact" with the captain, Leo next ventured down to engineering just to wander around and get a feel for the place. She was making a conscious and mighty effort _not_ to try to absorb too much, forcing herself instead merely to observe the crew at work and give various sections a once-over. She didn't ask any direct questions but found the engineering crew cheerfully willing to explain whatever they happened to be doing when she paused to watch. It turned out that Data was so deeply engaged in his warp particle analyses at the collection scoop processing station he barely lifted his eyes from the viewscreen to say "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," as she passed.

At 1030 hours she reported to sick bay for her crew physical. She'd of course been examined upon her arrival on board the Avalon, and again at the Academy, but protocol demanded she have a fresh baseline medical file established on the Enterprise.

"Good morning Lieutenant O'Reilly, and welcome aboard the Enterprise," the ship's chief medical officer greeted her. "I'm Beverly Crusher, the head medical honcha. You're not healthy until _I_ say you're healthy."

Leo couldn't help but think how casually friendly everyone was here – the captain excepted of course, but he didn't seem to be taking _too _long to warm up. "Call me Leo, doctor. I just can't get used to the rank thing."

"Okay, Leo, and call me Beverly. With all you've had to adjust to in the past year or so, I guess you can reach a limit. We're all friends here when the duty shift is over."

Beverly ran tricorders and various other instruments over and around Leo, and looked in eyes and ears much like the doctors she knew in her time. "The records Starfleet sent say you're allergic to some of our inoculations."

"Yeah, go figure. Only the minor stuff though. If I'd known I was coming somewhere where illness is outlawed I might have taken better care of myself. They were able to give me something that would keep me from being typhoid Mary to everyone else, though."

"Well I have a list of the 24th century things you can't be inoculated for, so we can keep you safely away from them. Your blood pressure is a little high."

"I had my first meeting with the captain not long ago."

Beverly clucked sympathetically and patted her shoulder. "Well all I can tell you is he's a lot better than his bluster. Once he gets over his adjustment anxiety, you'll wonder how you ever were intimidated by him."

Leo laughed as she got off the diagnostic bed and straightened her uniform. "Oh, I wasn't _intimidated_, I was pissed off. Well okay, maybe a _little_ intimidated. But I have this unavoidable tendency to push back just a little when I get pushed. You're right though, he's much better than his bluster."

Beverly handed Leo a code chip. "This is a program that you should feed into the replicator in your quarters. Even if I can't inoculate you for some modern bugs, you can take some supplements to boost your immunity. Once a day, the doses are in the program."

She examined the chip before pocketing it. "Digital vitamins, cool. But I guess if there was any such a thing as fresh fruit in this universe I could fall back on my old healthy habits. Well you play what you're dealt. Okay, thanks doc."

"Beverly."

"Okay, Beverly."

"So Leo, do you play poker? Some of us have a game every week, rotates from quarters to quarters."

"I'm better at blackjack, but draw is my game too."

"0700 every Thursday. This week's Data's turn."

"Thanks, I'll remember that. I guess I'm not much used to socializing, even 'back in the day'."

"We're a friendly bunch, but don't worry. We won't crowd any closer than you want us to."

"I'm not worried. Maybe it's time for me to bust out anyway, you know, back to the land of the living. No matter what century." The old-fashioned Timex Leo refused to give up told her it was 1115 hours. She was due for an interview with the ship's counselor, another "baseline file" at 1130. "Jeez, I've got 15 minutes to find my way to the counselor's office. If I didn't have my comlink locator you'd wind up finding my skeleton in some service companionway."

"Well you're in luck," Beverly laughed, "Deanna's just up one deck." She gave her the detailed directions. "Everyone's a little lost when they get here, but you'll absorb it fast. Believe it or not starships are laid out intuitively as well as technically."

"Well I read about all that at the Academy," Leo peered doubtfully out the sick bay door in the direction of the turbolift, "but I'm not convinced. Thanks. Maybe I'll see you Thursday night."

Leo found Deanna Troi's office with no difficulty based on Beverly's instructions. Technology be damned, she still trusted more in human reasoning and word-of-mouth to get from point a to point b. A small, dark, lovely woman with extravagant black hair and unusually deep black eyes answered the door chime and immediately shook Leo's hand.

"Leora O'Reilly, welcome. I'm Deanna Troi, the ship's counselor. Come in, can I get you something? Herbal tea perhaps?"

Was that in her file? She knew that the counselor was a Betazoid but didn't think their intuition was _that_ refined.

"Geordi mentioned you're fond of herbal tea," Deanna smiled, "I assure you I'm not a mind-reader."

"Well that's a relief. A person should be allowed to retain _some_ mystery."

When they'd settled in the comfortably upholstered armchairs Deanna had set up in her office, she looked at Leo with a warm smile.

"So, I imagine it's too soon for me to ask how you're settling in."

"My, you Betazoids _are_ intuitive, aren't you?" Leo laughed. "Let's just say that so far that with some assistance I'm finding my way around and so on. And I survived my first meeting with the captain." She hastened to add, "Don't worry, I didn't get an ugly first impression or anything."

"Your personnel file gives a pretty complete story of how you got to this century and how you did at the Academy. Less than two years isn't much time to adjust to an entirely new universe." It wasn't exactly a question, but Leo recognized the universal shrink-talk invitation to "share".

"If you're asking do I miss my 'old days' I'd have to say not _too_ terribly. What I miss, I guess, is familiarity. I can learn new, and adjust to different, but it's gonna take a while to establish a comfort level. I mean, I just got used to the Academy and whoosh I'm here. I didn't realize what I'd become attached to there until I knew I was leaving, even if it was just the routine I'd established."

"You seem to be relating pretty well to the present, according to your Academy performance. Isn't there anything from your old life that you wish you could have here? Aside from the friend that you've lost, of course."

"Well yeah, I'd want him with me anywhere wouldn't I? I always sort of made my 'universe' as I went along, but if I had to distill the one thing I really miss since coming here, it's the experience of _real_ things. Everything here is so managed, and manufactured, and what I call 'perfectly perfect'. Except for the people, ironically. I mean back in my day you could go ages before meeting anyone 'genuine'. But I really get desperate sometimes for something, _anything_ that's not so carefully planned and synthesized. I don't know where I'll find that here on the Enterprise."

"Where did you find it at the Academy?"

Leo smiled. "A guy named Boothby, the groundskeeper. He understands 'real', I found him just a few days after I got there. He grows real live things, even about a dozen trees on the campus that aren't regenerated or artificially engineered. When I got that desperate feeling I'd go find him and we'd dig in the dirt and bitch about synthetics and 'new for new's sake'."

"You know we have gardens on board here you could have access to. They're not typically for recreational use, but I'm sure our botanical engineer wouldn't mind you visiting whenever you'd like."

"See what I mean? 'Botanical engineer'. Not gardener, not groundskeeper, it's all so sterile. Sometimes I think if I have to deal with any more synthesized anything I'll scream." She caught herself. "Except for Data of course. He really got confused when I told him he was the first real human contact I felt like I had in this new place."

"So you don't see him as artificial, or a machine?"

"Nah. Oh he can do whatever a machine might do, I guess, strength and logic and performance-wise, but there's a real difference."

"And what's that?"

"A machine doesn't aspire to be something it's not yet. Even the AI ones, that can 'learn' and adapt through experience, they can reason what they aren't yet and measure and analyze and determine what's necessary to get there. They can measure the distance, but they can't wish it were shorter."

Deanna was smiling. Leo had come to know Data very quickly indeed. "So you find Data's friendship helpful in making your adjustment. More even than the humans you've met?"

"Well yeah, because he seemed to know who I am right away. I don't know how or why but why even ask? When you connect with someone it's the connection that matters."

"Does it worry you that you're so different?"

Leo became a bit aggravated. "'Different'? You mean in age, or background, or what? What are you trying to say? That I shouldn't have connected with Data because he's not 'organic'?"

"I meant different from the people and the world you encounter here," Deanna explained calmly.

"Oh." Leo was a little embarrassed. She'd begun to remember the difficulties in her relationship with Paul, their difference in age and gender and everything else that made people pay more attention than they should, and to all the wrong things. "Well I don't know what you mean by 'worry' but I'm aware of it, sure. I suppose I feel a little distant, no matter how nice everyone is, how engaging and how excited I am about my prospects here – and I am, I mean it – I still feel the distance. It's unavoidable."

"It's 'real'."

"Yeah. No matter how assimilated I get, I'll still be different. It's not necessarily a source of grinding misery. I'll navigate it like I'll have to navigate everything else until I get more used to it."

"You seem to have a very pragmatic outlook, even as you recognize the emotional difficulties."

"What choice do I have? You can beat your head against the wall, or you can paint it the way you like. It's still gonna be a wall, but you can sort of make it your own."

"But even 'your own' wall separates you from everyone else. Do you see that as permanent?"

"Nothing's permanent. And sooner or later every wall has a door or a window. I just keep looking for it. Who knows, it could be disguised as a Starship."

"Or an android?"

Leo shrugged. "Or a captain who wrestles with change. Anything can happen. Hey, 'anything' already has."

Deanna seemed ready to conclude the meeting. "Thank you for coming, Leo. I think you'll do well here. And until you locate those windows and doors, please feel free to see me any time you'd like. Even if it's not a crisis."

"Well I hear there's a weekly poker game…are you in?" The smile on Deanna's face segued from professional to personal.

"I'm _all the way_ in."

"Then maybe I'll see you. Thanks, Deanna. I'm glad you're not one of those 'tell me about your childhood' kind of people."

Now the counselor laughed. "Well that can be helpful for perspective in some circumstances, but it's more useful to look at 'now' than 'then'. I'm sure I'll see you on the bridge."

"You might hear the shouting through the ready room door. See you."

It was 1230 hours and nearly time for the officers' meeting. All department commanders were gathering in the conference room, and Leo would be officially introduced. Some she'd met already, Beverly, Geordi, Will and of course Data. But a few department lieutenants would also be included. She felt like some bizarre debutante. Oh well, she was to report to the captain first so he could bring her into the meeting officially. Oddly, she felt more secure seeing him first.

"Captain Picard, Lieutenant O'Reilly reporting sir."

"Come in, Lieutenant, please."

The captain was having tea at his desk as he went over some reports on his viewscreen. "Please, sit down. Can I get you something? I don't imagine you've had much time to eat."

Instinctively she looked around and saw no cooking facilities, and realized he meant the replicator. Her consternation must have showed.

"I'm aware of your attachment to natural food. We can certainly have some adaptations made in your quarters and whatever other accommodations are possible. I understand Boothby was your 'connection' at the Academy for such things."

"Boothby! How did you know about that?"

"He sent me a subspace message upon learning of your posting here. I don't have to tell you that's not a common practice, but he felt he had something important to pass on."

She couldn't imagine what. Boothby certainly wasn't a gossip, and even though she was aware of his acquaintance with Picard what could he have to share with him about her? "He told you about my food neurosis?" Picard's laugh was disarmingly warm.

"No, that was in your personnel file. And I believe it was stated as a 'preference', not a 'neurosis'. Boothby just wanted to tell me not to drive you away."

"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow. Was he implying she was that easily intimidated? "He thought you'd scare me off? After what I've seen and done in less than two years, after being on my own and up against all manner of sh…" she stopped herself, but didn't fool Picard a bit, "stuff here and 'back in the day', he thought I'd be scared off by a new boss?"

"No, he was afraid you'd be so annoyed that you'd request another post. Don't worry, he didn't go telling tales about you, only that you don't suffer fools gladly. So he told me 'Picard, for heaven's sake don't be a fool until later.'"

Laughing and shaking her head, Leo observed, "Honestly, that's one of the things that really drew me to him, when there's a point to be made he's never careless but he doesn't waste time."

"No mystery it's one of the things you have in common. In any case for now all I can offer is replicated refreshment."

"How about jasmine tea? Can it do that? With honey?"

"I don't see why not. All I ever have is Earl Grey but we'll give it a try," he said it as if he'd have her believe his replicator was stuck in a rut. He stood nearby its controls and announced, "Tea. Jasmine. Hot. Pot of honey." There was a glimmer and a black-handled glass of steaming golden tea appeared, alongside a smaller glass container of honey accompanied by a dipper. Picard withdrew the tray from the replicator and placed it on his desk next to Leo. "There, I think you'll find the tea acceptable."

"I guess I can pretend I'm at the automat in New York," Leo told him. His confused expression made her laugh. "Sorry, mid-20th century. Look it up sometime."

"I have a feeling I'll be looking up quite a bit until we know one another better."

Leo dipped some honey into her tea and sipped it. It was perfect. "Nice," she told him. "It can make tea, at least." She drank it in silence as Picard finished his reviews. With a glance at the chronometer set under the glass surface of his desk, he announced, "Well it's time for your unveiling." He preceded her into the conference room off the bridge where they'd had their first meeting. Seated around the long black table were Geordi and another officer she didn't recognize, Beverly Crusher, Deanna Troi, Will Riker, Data, a ruddy man with a pleasant face and curly red hair, and a very large Klingon. Not that they came in any other size, Leo supposed.

Leo stood to the captain's left (the right being reserved by protocol for the first officer), a position that would in not too long a time become as natural for her as standing inside her own shoes.

"I'm sure you're aware of an addition to the functions of Starship operations that was announced not long ago by Starfleet Command," Picard began. "Pursuant to that change and subsequent orders, I'm pleased to present the Enterprise's new Administrative Executive Officer, Lieutenant Leora Eileen O'Reilly." He knew she'd met some of those present already, but for the sake of protocol he introduced each of them separately and each nodded rather formally in turn. "Ship's First Officer Lt. Commander William Riker, Ship's Counselor Deanna Troi, Chief Medical Officer Lt. Commander Beverly Crusher, Ship's Second Officer and Chief Science Officer Lt. Commander Data, Chief Engineering Officer Lt. Commander Geordi LaForge, Engineering Officer Lt. Reginald Barkley, Chief Transporter Engineer Lt. Miles O'Brien, Chief Security Officer Lt. Commander Worf. I know you are all aware that Lt. O'Reilly comes to us from Starfleet Academy's first graduating class of certification in starship administration, but some of you may not know that prior to that she came to 24th century San Francisco from 21st century New England. I'll leave her to relate the details to you as you become acquainted. But I know the lieutenant can expect your cooperation and assistance in helping her acclimate not only to her new post, but her new life." The captain paused now and looked at Leo, indicating she should speak. She hadn't counted on this, but should have. Data's expression edged very subtly from neutral to encouraging as Leo took a step forward.

"Some of you I've met already, and some I hope to be beating soon at poker." This elicited laughter from all, and a grumble of, "We shall see," from Worf. "I apologize in advance for the incessant questions I'm going to be asking you, for the multiple times I'm going to get lost on the way to meetings, and in general for the multiple faux pas I expect to commit in 24th century knowledge and etiquette. I'm new in town in the biggest sense of the word, but with the help that I've seen coming my way already I hope to find my way into my job without melting down ship's operations or starting another Cardassian war. When I arrived at the Academy less than two years ago one of the first names I learned in my history studies was Enterprise. Even an antique like myself recognizes the stunning achievements accomplished under that name. To start my new life on such a ship and in such company is more than I ever expected when I stumbled off the Avalon. I intend to be worthy of Captain Picard's trust in me, the newest unknown, and yours as well." She paused for breath and looked at Picard.

"And I've run out of professional demeanor. Permission to shut up, sir?"

"Granted. Please note that in the official log, Number One, I have a feeling it may be the first and last time those words will be uttered by our new lieutenant."

"So noted," Riker laughed.

"Thank you all. Dismissed."

Leo turned to confront the captain, all previous hesitation forgotten. "Was that really necessary? Sir?"

He was still smiling. "Oh I'm afraid so, lieutenant. I believe in getting off to a clear and honest start."

Lt. O'Brien paused on his way past. "Speaking as a fellow descendant of God's True Chosen People, I'm pleased to invite you to join us in Ten Forward for a more casual welcome."

Noting that they had, after all, been officially dismissed, Leo replied, "And speaking as a fellow spinner of Ireland's Own Bullshit, I'd be pleased to accept."


	4. Tired, Hungry, Stupid

That had been a few convivial hours ago. Even Worf had gotten over his affront at her perceived challenge to his poker playing prowess. Several of the others had reported for duty – god bless synthehol, Leo figured. She managed to remember her security code and keyed it into her door lock panel, stumbling over the non-existent threshold, suddenly shattered by exhaustion. Once inside she pried the lid off her 35-kilo container and rooted around for her pj's, wanting nothing more than to fall on her face in bed until 0800, when she was due for a more official orientation in engineering. She was also starving, but first things first. Strange, she knew she'd put her pajamas in the box with her books, but they weren't there. Had someone taken them to be cleaned? She wasn't sure if or how they'd do it. At the Academy they had these sort of magic closets you'd hang your stuff in, and when it was time to clean it you'd just hit a button and they'd be done all at once. She pulled the books out one by one and dropped them around her on the floor. Nothing. Now she looked in various drawers, all of them empty, in the bedroom where the bed was freshly made, nothing. No closets to be found, either. Swell. Leo's head was beginning to pound, and she realized she hadn't eaten since… when? She couldn't remember eating anything at all since leaving the Academy at the crack of stellar dawn. Shit.

Grudgingly Leo approached the food replicator and stared at it as if expecting it to speak first. What did she want that it couldn't screw up? "Tomato cheese soup and crackers," she announced. The predicable sparkly glimmer (that was beginning to annoy her, frankly) and there appeared a tomato, a block of who knows what kind of cheese, a bowl of nasty-looking crackers, and nothing else. "Variety of soup?" the replicator's computerized voice finally asked. "Tomato cheese, I said tomato cheese soup." Another sparkle, another tomato, another block of cheese. "Variety of soup?"

Did they give her a messed up replicator, or what? Too pissed off and tired to continue arguing with this piece of obviously defective junk she said in exasperation, "Jasmine tea with honey." Sparkle, and a sprig of jasmine flowers appeared. No tea, no honey. "Variety of tea with honey?" She picked up one of the unwanted tomatoes and flung it across the room in a rage, then followed with the other. As the first one bounced off the far wall – hah, of _course_ it didn't explode with a satisfying splat, that would be too _imperfect_ – her door chime sounded simultaneously with the impact. Leo jumped a mile. Did she break something? Great. As she stood immobile, the door chimed again.

"Leo? It is Data. Did you drop something?"

He'd been unable to join her and the others in Ten Forward, having to return to duty immediately after the meeting.

"Leo, is everything all right?"

"_NO!_" she wailed, then added, "it's open for christsake, just come in!"

When Data entered the room he took in the scene with an expression of amazement. For him, anyway. He saw a litter of books on the floor, open drawers visible here and through the bedroom doorway, a replicator tray jammed with what appeared to be blocks of cheese, a bowl of protein biscuits, and a sprig of jasmine. Two tomatoes lay where they had respectively rolled to a stop on the floor.

"Leo, what has happened?"

She wanted to scream, to throw furniture instead of food. "I can't find my pj's. I can't make the _food_ come out." She sounded like a six year old.

Data's eyebrows raised slightly as he took a few steps toward her. "Are you all right, Leo?"

"_NO_." It almost _was_ a scream, the precursor to a tantrum. "I'm tired. I'm hungry." She looked at the mess surrounding her. "I'm _stupid._"

It didn't take human insight for Data to recognize someone at the end of her dangerously frayed rope. Leo's previously neatly-arranged hair was flying loose and her uniform in disarray, eyes bloodshot and desperate-looking. Leaving aside the logical questions for the moment, he opted for something Deanna frequently suggested as a source of comfort when one's friends are upset.

"Do you require… a hug?" Though he phrased it as a question he knew it was a certainty.

"Yes, please." It was a miserable whimper just short of tears. Since she didn't move Data went to her and put his arms around her. Leo leaned against him and reached around his waist; he held her just exactly tight enough, but somehow she didn't mind him being perfectly perfect. She laid her face in his shoulder and whimpered again.

"I too had difficulty adjusting in the first days of my assignment aboard the Enterprise," he assured her.

He was answered by a despondent sigh. "But you didn't suffer a complete attack of stupid."

"You are not 'stupid'. You are overwhelmed and exhausted. You are unable to absorb the enormous amount of information given to you in a short time."

It occurred to Data that humans driven to emotional extremes sometimes regressed to childlike behavior. Leo's demeanor at present was quite uncharacteristic and likely regressive. He accessed a behavior known to calm small children, and began to rock slightly from side to side as he held Leo a bit closer. His inspiration was rewarded by an immediate drop in her heart rate and blood pressure and an evenness in her previously ragged respiration. After several moments he inquired (god how she loved that tone in his voice, quietly logical, and not patronizing at all) "Where do you remember having put your 'pj's'?"

When she stepped back he was looking in her eyes with that "how can I help?" expression.

"In the box with my books," she indicated the disarray on the floor. Data picked them up and replaced them in the empty container, replaced the lid and put the whole thing to one side. "You have looked in all the drawers and cabinets."

"_Yes_." The whine was returning, but was defused by a tilt of Data's head. "Yes. Out here and in the bedroom."

"Did you look in the closets?"

"Closets? Where?"

"Did Ensign Whitney not explain their location and function?" He sounded vaguely disapproving, as if he intended to have a word with the Ensign regarding his lapse.

"I dunno, maybe he did, but we were in kind of a hurry and I was a little nerved up over my meeting with the captain…" she paused. "I guess I didn't pay good enough attention, I'm sorry."

His expression was warm with reassurance. "There is no need to apologize. It is understandable that you were preoccupied. Here, let me show you." Data stepped around the tomatoes as if they didn't exist and led her into the bedroom, indicating what appeared to be a decorative molding surrounding a rectangular area roughly three feet in width. It reached from the floor nearly to the ceiling. He pressed on the left-hand side and a panel whooshed open, revealing several identical uniforms. And one set of tiger stripe pajamas neatly arrayed on a hanger. "Perhaps the crew member who delivered your possessions believed you would want them here. There are two more similar closets in the outer room," he explained as if giving a casual tour. "To open or to close it, simply apply pressure on either side.

Leo reached out and gave the right side of the molding an experimental push. It slid shut with a whoosh. "Oh. Okay." She squinted her eyes shut for a moment. Her head felt ready to explode.

"What is wrong?"

"My head hurts something awful. I haven't eaten since I left Earth."

Without comment and as if it were part of a preplanned agenda Data led the way back to the main room and scooped up the two tomatoes, placing them with the jasmine flowers and cheese in the replicator tray. "Discard," he instructed, and they glimmered away. He deactivated the voice recognition mechanism before asking Leo, "What did you request?"

Her brow knit with frustration. "Tomato cheese soup. Twice. What I got was a tomato, a piece of cheese, and a bowl of cardboard-y stuff. Second time I just got the tomato and cheese. It kept asking me 'what variety of soup'. Then I asked for jasmine tea with honey, all I got was the flowers and it asked 'what variety of tea with honey'?"

"Ah. There is a problem with your syntax." She was completely confused. "The replicator is programmed to execute from the general to the specific. In that syntax, the request it would recognize would be spoken as 'Soup. Tomato with cheese. Hot.' Substance, followed by variety, followed by temperature where that is appropriate. Each term is expressed separately. Because of the order of your request the replicator interpreted that you required a tomato, a piece of cheese, and an undisclosed variety of soup. It would also require you to specify the variety of cheese and crackers."

"What if it piles it up with a mountain of cheddar?"

"The programming will recognize certain terms in conjunction with others, and default to a baseline. 'Tomato with cheddar cheese' would include only as much cheese as would be contained in a single-serving bowl with the hot soup. Serving size defaults to single. Multiple servings or large containers must be specified."

"But what were those nasty things in the bowl?"

"Some terms, when offered without a modifier, default to a baseline as well. 'Crackers' without a modifier would be replicated as simple protein wafers of the type issued for survival rations."

"Blechh. It was so much easier to learn to cook."

Data steered Leo to the table and chairs arranged near the replicator, the "dining area". "Tell me what you would like. Will soup be sufficient?"

"I'm too tired to eat anything else. And make the crackers saltines. Do you have saltines in the 24th century?"

"The computer will find the analog in its historical data files." He returned to the replicator and switched on the voice recognition mechanism. "Soup. Tomato and cheddar cheese. Hot. Saltine crackers." Glimmer, and the tray was filled with a steaming bowl of soup, accompanied by a saucer of saltines, a soup spoon, and napkin. Data removed the tray and added, "Tea. Jasmine. Hot. Pot of honey." A black-handled glass of tea and glass honey pot with dipper, identical to what she'd gotten in the captain's ready room, appeared. Data arranged the things on the table in front of Leo. She looked utterly dazed.

"Please, eat. You will feel better." More knowledge of human needs that didn't require any special insight. Though Leo hated to admit it, the soup was very good and the crackers virtually indistinguishable from 'back in the day'. And the tea as well. By the time she'd finished it all, her head was no longer pounding.

"Has your headache improved?" Data asked solicitously.

"Gone, thanks. Really, thank you, you rescued me again."

"I do not require thanks. You simply required additional guidance because of your physically diminished state." Before she could respond he added, "The effects of hunger and fatigue may sometimes be misinterpreted by humans as a 'complete attack of stupid'."

"Your humor subroutine has definitely been refined."

"I have requested guidance in developing beyond puns to wit."

"Smartass."

"Yes, I believe Geordi used that word as well." He regarded her for a moment. "It is gratifying to see you smile."

"I guess I haven't been doing much of that today, have I? I promise I won't always be like this."

"It did not occur to me to consider that you would be." Data stood and gathered her dishes, but she stopped him.

"No, let me." She stacked them on the tray and replaced it in the replicator, with one eye on Data. "Discard." She was delighted to see the tray disappear. "Now that part of perfectly perfect I can probably live with," she told him.

"You should go to bed. It is not late, but you are very tired."

"Thanks, Dr. Data." He approximated a smile to show he understood the humor. "Data, I know it probably is all against ship's protocol and makes me seem like a big imposing baby, but could you stay a while?" Unable to explain in any other terms, she told him, "I feel a little less lost when you're around."

"I do not wish for you to feel 'lost'. Yes, I will stay as long as you require. There is no Starfleet code regulating with whom I spend time when not on duty." He watched her disappear into the bedroom, knowing she would return dressed in the tiger stripe pajamas of which she was so fond. He didn't know _how_ he knew, exactly, he just did. And because he knew exactly what she meant when she said "stay a while", he anticipated experiencing the changes in temperature and movement in her as she slept, the quiet sleep-sounds he'd heard the first time he'd stayed with her. He wondered momentarily if such thoughts were analogous to the human male imperative to "get laid". Somehow it didn't seem to him as shallow a goal. He wanted the knowledge and understanding of Leo as well as the sensory input of experiencing her tactile variations. Already the concepts seemed inseparable.

"Don't worry, I won't be like this for too long." She stood in the bedroom doorway in her tiger stripe pajamas.

"I am not 'worried'," he told her, rising to follow her to the bed without inquiry or invitation. He waited for her to lie down as he removed his boots then, as he did that night at the Academy, lay on top of the covers close by her side. She shook her head. "It's okay, Data, you can come in. Anyway, I need another hug." When he'd slid into bed and hugged her she laid her head on his shoulder as if this were the most natural arrangement in the world.

"Leo," he ventured, "you will tell me if you wish to initiate a sexual aspect to our relationship? I am not certain I will be able to correctly interpret subtle non-verbal cues, and I do not wish to make assumptions that may be inappropriate . On the other hand, I do not wish to disappoint you if you desire a more physical connection."

"We've got a whole lifetime for that, D. I prize hearts over hormones, anyway."

"Very well." After a second he asked, "Who is 'D'?"

"It's _you. _I mean there's nothing wrong with your name, but it's your whole formal name even if it's just one word. I'm 'Leo' to my friends. I figured maybe D might work as a nickname for you."

"I have only one initial," he observed.

"That's okay, it's all you need. But can I ask you a favor?"

"I will attempt to comply."

"Is it okay if I'm the only one who calls you that?"

"'D'?"

"Yeah. I kind of think of it as a name for the Data only I know."

"That would be agreeable. And I believe that it may be an accurate assessment, as well. Sleep, now."

"Yeah..."

The word faded into a whisper, and very shortly the change in her respiration and heartbeat told Data that Leo was asleep. Carefully, lightly, he trailed his fingers sideways against the silk of her hair and to the softness of the join of her neck and shoulder, traveling on then to measure her warmth through the smooth surface of tiger stripe pajamas.

At 0645 Data released Leo from his embrace and withdrew from the bed, tucking the bedclothes around her. She stirred and mumbled something unintelligible.

"I must return to duty," he told her.

"Mmf, 'kay," she burrowed into the pillow without ever waking fully. Data stood for a long moment looking down at her. Then he bent and gently kissed her head.

"Welcome aboard," he whispered, then straightened and departed for the bridge.


End file.
